The Morning After
by volley
Summary: Friend In Need. It's the morning after Reed has had his fight with Hayes and Trip his romantic evening with T'Pol. One is bruised on the outside, the other on the inside. Coda to Harbinger


Here is a Friend In Need story that is more humorous than usual. Hope you enjoy it enough to leave a little review!

My beta reader was once again Roaring Mice, to whom goes my heartfelt thanks

* * *

"Morning, Commander."

Trip Tucker acknowledged the Ensign who had greeted him with only a sharp nod. He marched on along the corridor vaguely realising that he must look like a very pissed-off version of himself, but not really caring much.

Now that both the mess hall and T'Pol were behind him and out of sight, Trip blew out an irritated breath and made a conscious effort to relax his face muscles, which for the past ten minutes had forcefully been frozen in a neutral expression. He hadn't wanted T'Pol to see just how hurt, disappointed and outraged he had felt at finding out that their romantic evening had been nothing more than an experiment for her.

He still couldn't believe it.

Trip bit his lip, silently kicking himself. Hell, he had fallen into her trap like an idiot. Not that any other healthy male crewmember on the ship would have acted any differently, he tried to console himself as he took long, exasperated strides towards Engineering. T'Pol was one shapely female, and the way she had thrown herself onto him…

Trip had a flash of the usually impassive Subcommander suddenly kissing him and then offering him that unhindered view of those beautiful Vulcan moons she carried around – not to mention of the rest of her hot planet – and felt a sudden warmth rise.

_You schmuck!_ he cursed himself, pushing the memory away. _What else can you expect from someone who doesn't acknowledge her emotions?_

He was about to take the next turn, when he spotted Reed trying to slither inside the lift undetected and was reminded that the man had just made a wonderful mess of his warp drive. Granted, he had done so to save the ship from that alien bent on blowing them to smithereens, but at the moment his temper wasn't going to make any allowances.

_Oh, no. _he thought, his irritation flaring again. _You're not gonna hide away from me, Loo-tenant._

"Malcolm!" he called out in an authoritative tone. He saw Reed stop, one hand holding the door open.

"I'm a little busy now, Trip," he shouted over his shoulder. "Catch you later."

Trip clenched his jaw and strode up to him, grabbing his shoulder and holding him back before he could disappear inside the lift. He immediately felt Malcolm's muscles harden and heard him take a sharp breath, which startled him into releasing his grip.

Could Reed have been injured trying to stop that madman the previous night? He took a step to the side and tilted his head to get a better look at his friend. When Malcolm finally and very reluctantly shot him a glance, Trip's eyes went wide with surprise. The man looked like hell, his face as bruised and swollen as that time he had been used as a punching bag by the Suliban.

"What in heaven's name…"

"It's nothing," Malcolm cut him off tautly, shying away.

Trip took him by both shoulders and turned him gently, his irritation melting away. "I had no idea that alien had beat the hell out of you," he said.

"Actually he didn't," Malcolm mumbled uncomfortably, around his swollen features.

Trip frowned, even more surprised by Malcolm's answer. If not the alien then who… A sudden suspicion peaked into his mind, and without thinking he tightened his hold, eliciting a choked grunt of pain. "You didn't fight with Hayes, did you?" he enquired darkly.

Breaking free of Trip's grip, Malcolm made to cross his arms over his chest but gave up with a flinch. He averted his eyes.

"Did you?" Trip insisted.

Malcolm shot a wary look around. "Trip, would you mind postponing this conversation till our next break?" he said in a low, circumspect voice.

"You did! I can't believe it!" Trip shook his head in disbelief. "You two…"

"Look, as I told you yesterday: drop it," Malcolm interrupted him touchily.

Trip shaped his face in a determined expression. "Ah, no, I won't. Not this time," he replied categorically. He watched his friend cast another nervous glance around and could tell that his temper was reaching boiling point.

"I've already had a lovely dressing-down," Malcolm spat out. "So, _please_ spare me another one."

Trip studied him. He looked angry but also distressed, and perhaps a little embarrassed, not to mention – judging by his slightly crooked posture – in pain. What a pair they made this morning, he thought with a silent sigh. One battered on the outside, the other battered on the inside.

Following a sudden whim he took Reed by the arm again, albeit gently this time. "Come on, we're taking that break right now."

"But I can't," Malcolm protested, flinching away with a grimace. "I have work to do in the Armoury."

"You can do it in twenty minutes. The ship won't blow up if you stay out of that damn Armoury for twenty minutes."

Malcolm heaved a frustrated breath, but it caught in his throat and he wrapped an arm around his ribs.

"How did you even convince Phlox to allow you to go back on duty?" Trip asked with a sympathetic wince.

"I'm fine."

_Right_. From Malcolm's icy tone of voice Trip knew that the famous Reed shields had been slammed up. He suppressed a long-suffering sigh. "Sure you are," he said patiently. "You comin'?"

Reed closed his eyes briefly. When he reopened them, they held a fair amount of misery, but at least they were letting him in again, which was more than Trip had expected.

"Trip, the Captain is already thoroughly pissed off with me," he murmured. "I'd rather not give him any more reasons for deciding to shove me out an airlock." His eyebrows met in the middle in a distressed expression. "I really could not blame the man if he did," he finished bleakly.

Trip pursed his lips, making a fast decision. "Then, Lieutenant, you're gonna accompany me to the launchbays. It's time for a little maintenance to the Shuttlepods. And that's an order," he said in his best Officer's tone.

He could still read reluctance in Reed's body language. Before he knew it, he heard himself adding softly, "Look, I too had a rather… _eventful_ evening, last night." T'Pol's words still echoed in his mind. "Might not have any bruises to show for it but God knows bruises aren't always visible."

Malcolm's focus instantly turned from inward to outward. He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes, making Trip feel a little self-conscious under the close scrutiny.

"I suppose the Captain wouldn't be pleased if I disobeyed an order," Reed finally said in that startling low-pitched voice he sometimes produced deep in his chest, and which seemed at odds with his small frame. More than once Trip had wondered if he actually practised it.

Nodding, Trip flashed Malcolm a wide grin. "Absolutely, Lieutenant. Might even demote you."

* * *

"So, who started it?" Trip asked directly, as soon as they had found refuge inside a Shuttlepod – Shuttlepod One, to be precise. He had secretly smiled when Malcolm had made his way to it, wondering if the choice had been casual. That's where their friendship had started; that's where some pretty private emotions had first been laid bare. It seemed a most appropriate place for confidences - especially confidences concerning T'Pol.

Malcolm stopped and turned to face him, one hand darting to a sore spot on his lower back. "You lured me down here hinting that you needed to talk to me, and now you want _me_ to talk?" he challenged.

"Uhm, why can't we both?" Trip stalled, his voice just as firm in the hope it would hide his failing courage. Malcolm had a point, but he definitely didn't feel very confident talking about his feelings today, and for the second time that morning he found himself saying, "You go first."

Malcolm took in a slow and careful breath, which he then just as carefully let out. He went to a bench and sat down gingerly. He looked at Trip, and the fire that had been smouldering in his eyes a moment before was gone. "I'm afraid I started it," he muttered. "Although I can't say he pulled back."

Plopping down on the facing bench, Trip raised his eyebrows, curious to hear the rest of it, waiting silently for Malcolm to continue, his own troubles pushed into a corner of his mind.

"I was blowing off steam in the gym when Hayes came in," Malcolm went on after a moment. "He saw me and turned to leave, but..." He shrugged, pulling a small grimace. "I told him I could use a sparring partner, and asked him if he was up to it."

"If he was _up to it_? Aw God!" Trip burst out, rolling his eyes. "You must be kiddin'! After the way you argued with him at our last trainin' session, after the tension build-up between you two? I can see Hayes jumpin' at the offer, especially if you put it that way." He snorted. "Talk about lookin' for trouble…"

"Well, I was mad at the man," Malcolm countered, anger swelling again. He briefly averted his eyes in that stubborn way of his. "Still am."

Trip groaned. "Come on, Malcolm," he said in astonishment. "You've got to admit, this nonsense has gone a bit too far. The two of you are supposed to work together to protect us, and what do you do instead? Beat each other to a pulp. Smart!"

"Look, I really don't want to discuss this." Malcolm's eyes hardened. "I thought I had been quite clear about it." In his anger, he had even managed to produce his clipped accent despite his mangled lips. Fighting his aches and pains, this time he did cross his arms over his chest, scowling like a stubborn child to a reprimanding parent. Trip's genial nature got the better of him, making his mouth curve upwards.

"It's not funny," Malcolm grunted, flashing him daggers.

"Sorry."

Trip made an effort to control the sheepish grin that seemed to want to linger on his lips, risking provoking another outburst from his friend. Heaving a breath, he managed to straighten his face. "Hell, Malcolm, look at you," he said waving a hand at his friend's features, concern entering his voice.

Letting out an exasperated sound, Reed got up and shuffled to the controls, where he proceeded to power up a few systems. Trip watched in puzzlement. "What are you doin' now?" he called to him, scratching his head.

"If we are to do maintenance, we are to do maintenance," Malcolm replied testily. He lowered himself rigidly in a seat and began to access weapons.

"Uh."

Trip refrained from pointing out what Malcolm undoubtedly already knew: that doing maintenance to the Shuttlepods was just an excuse to get some time to themselves. He looked at him in silence for a few moments before joining him at the front of the pod, sliding into the pilot's seat. Malcolm shot him a quick glance and returned to whatever he was doing, and Trip sat there studying his jerky movements, the tension that exuded from his every pore. In the end he couldn't keep quiet any more.

"Hayes is good, but so are you. Why the hell are you so jealous of him?" he blurted out. "Ya don't seriously think he wants to take over security, do ya?" He braced for his friend's reaction. But Malcolm unexpectedly froze, looking down at his hands.

"Jealous?" he murmured. He pursed his lips pensively. "I suppose one is jealous when..." Swivelling slowly in his chair, he looked around. "Remember that time, when we got stranded in this Shuttlepod?"

"Hard to forget," was the muttered reply.

"We thought Enterprise had crashed on that asteroid, and I told you that I had lost nearly everyone I cared for."

Trip's brow knitted in a puzzled frown. "What has that got to do with you and Hayes?"

"I suppose jealousy arises when feelings run deep," Malcolm said after a beat, in the low tones of unease.

Trip blinked and leaned against the back of his seat: here he was, once again discussing jealousy and deep feelings. He let his mind briefly wander, thinking of where that had led him the previous night, in T'Pol's quarters.

When he focused again on Reed, it was with a naughty glint in his eyes. "You're not tryin' to tell me you have feelings for Hayes, are ya?" he asked deadpan.

He watched as his words sank in: Malcolm turned to stone, and for a second Trip thought he'd chosen the wrong time for a joke. But then his friend's eyes danced, and a moment later they were both chuckling, Malcolm soon gasping for air and wrapping an arm around his midsection as he shot Trip livid glances.

"Bloody hell, Trip," he choked out, "Can't you be serious for once?"

"Sorry," Trip apologised for the second time. He reined in his mirth while Malcolm, face scrunched up, tried to breathe.

It took them a moment to settle down again.

"I suppose I _am_ jealous of Hayes," Reed finally confessed, easily slipping into a reflective mood again. "He might not be after security, but the Captain does seem to think he can do a better job at protecting this crew, and that just… rubs me the wrong way. Captain Archer should know how much I care about them, that I'll do anything to keep them safe." He paused briefly. "I put my heart into it. For Hayes it's different. He was assigned to this mission to enhance our fighting capabilities. I get the feeling that for him protecting this ship is just a job like any other."

"And what else?" Trip asked gently, knowing there was more.

Malcolm looked at him, distress clear in his eyes. "Much as I hate to admit it, Hayes _is_ damn good." He let out a mirthless huff and added softly, "As is quite obvious."

Trip opened his mouth to say that the Major was probably just as battered and sore, but didn't get a chance.

"And that makes the Captain's faith in him all the more difficult to accept," Malcolm murmured, averting his eyes. "For he just might be right."

Trip wanted to say 'Ah, no.' but the words stuck in his throat. They wouldn't be the truth and Malcolm would hear it in his voice. He just didn't know if either of them was better than the other. He thought they were both first-rate. Trip felt sorry for his friend. He may well have over-reacted the previous night, but it was a fact that Archer hadn't been very tactful. Reed took pride in what he did, giving it his all, and the Captain had made him feel second best. Trip had learnt that Malcolm, seemingly so self-assured and cool even under pressure, hid a vulnerable and sensitive heart; a heart that, for all of the man's famous shields, was easily wounded.

Reed returned to busy himself with buttons and levers, tense and self-conscious again, and Trip let him be, mulling his words.

There was no doubt that Hayes was a well-trained war machine. And in a way Trip could also understand Jon: they were in a dangerous situation and personal feelings had to be put aside. After all, the Captain was only trying his best to keep his crew safe and their mission on course. But weren't they all? That was the irony of it.

"But if you love this crew," Trip broke out again, making sure his tone was not confrontational, "Shouldn't you worry only about what's best for them?"

Malcolm stopped and swallowed, and Trip suddenly realised how his words could be interpreted.

"Hey." He reached out and swivelled Malcolm's chair to capture his friend's eyes. "That's not what I'm sayin'… Come on, Malcolm, you know I'd trust you with my life any time. There's no doubt in my mind that you're just as good as Hayes is. I just think it's… crazy of you two to fight each other. You both want the same thing, after all: keep us safe, make sure our mission succeeds. Same thing the Capt'n wants."

They held each other's gaze; then Trip saw Malcolm's face relax – the last thing he had expected – and he released the breath he'd been holding.

Malcolm's grey eyes had lost their sharp edge. "I suppose you're right, I should think of what's best for the crew," he murmured. Shaking his head regretfully, he added, "I acted the idiot, didn't I?"

"Welcome to the club," Trip blurted out before he could stop himself. _Dammit! _He silently cursed. By now he was pretty sure that he'd rather not tell Malcolm about his night with T'Pol. Stealing a glance at his friend, though, he saw that Reed was studying him closely.

"Ah, ya know – we all act like idiots at some time or other," Trip said dismissively. He flashed a wide grin, but he could see that his awkward attempt at steering the conversation away from himself was failing miserably.

Malcolm pinned him with the steeliest gaze of his repertoire. "No. I don't know," he said flatly. "And what happened to _'why can't we both talk'_, anyway?"

"Good memory," Trip joked nervously, passing a hand through his hair and messing it up completely. "Aw, stop lookin' at me like that," he complained.

Malcolm raised innocent eyebrows. "Like what?" The cursed man looked to be thoroughly enjoying not being, for once, the one under scrutiny.

"Like I'm some kind of…" _Lab rat_, a mean voice suggested. Trip looked away. "Ah, forget it," he mumbled, hurt clear in his voice.

From their lofty heights Malcolm's eyebrows took an abrupt dive. "Trip, are you going to tell me what happened to you last night or do I have to threaten you with a phase pistol again?" he demanded, a touch of worry creeping into his voice.

Apparently Shuttlepod One was bringing back a few memories.

Trip sighed in resignation. He wondered how to breach the subject. "Remember when ya asked me if Vulcan neuropressure was... an intimate procedure?" he began, hesitantly.

A thick silence fell; Trip could almost hear Malcolm's wheels turning. "You mean in the mess hall, yesterday, when you claimed there was _nothing_ between you and Amanda, _or_ you and T'Pol," Reed slowly replied, stressing the key words.

Damn the man and his shrewd tactical mind, always two steps ahead.

"Yeah."

"Indeed, I do remember." Malcolm's casual tone of voice didn't quite manage to mask his curiosity.

Trip gave him a lopsided smirk. "Last night it… With T'Pol. Well, it got a bit more intimate than usual."

Malcolm's mouth opened but for a few seconds no words came out. He cleared his throat. "Just… how _much_ more?" he croaked.

"Uhm - Remember that time we got stranded in this Shuttlepod?"

A low groan rumbled in the Lieutenant's throat. "Trip, I just asked you the same question five minutes ago. It's quite obvious I do remember that as well." Malcolm narrowed his gaze. "Anything else you want to know if I remember?"

"What I'm getting at…" Trip rubbed his neck. "Well, ya see… that time – we must've been half way through that bottle of bourbon – you asked me if I'd ever noticed T'Pol's bum."

Malcolm's eyes darted briefly to the side. "And?..." A tiny smile now tugged at his lips.

"I can tell ya -- it's real beautiful. As are her… ah, well, the rest of her." Keeping a straight face, Trip made his eyebrows dance.

Malcolm's jaw dropped. "What in heaven's name did you…"

"_She_ kissed _me_, honestly, Malcolm!" Trip hurried to add, the words tumbling out of his mouth as soon as he saw that his friend had grossly misunderstood who had first done what to whom. "She did everything herself, I did nothin'. Well…" He jerked his head sideways. "That's not exactly true, I ended up doin' quite a bit myself," he amended. "But…"

"Are we even talking about the same T'Pol?" Malcolm interrupted in disbelief. "The aloof Vulcan First Officer of this ship?" He suddenly frowned, as if struck by a thought. "Perhaps she was ill again?" he wondered aloud, obviously referring to that time T'Pol had caught a bug on an away mission, ending up trying to mate with Phlox and assaulting Malcolm after escaping from the decon chamber.

"Nah."

"But then…"

Trip shrugged. "Well, she's a woman, you know?" he said in what he thought was a pretty good imitation of Malcolm's drunken drawl. After all, he had a few memories from that famous Shuttlepod-One mission too.

Malcolm looked too stunned to appreciate the impersonation. Or maybe when he had said the words he'd already been too smashed to remember them. He tugged at his undershirt, stretching his neck. "Then I suppose the ship's grapevine was right after all," he said, almost to himself.

"Ah, no, wait a moment," Trip began, raising a hand. Malcolm's mind, though, was once again already a step ahead.

"Don't worry, Trip. Your secret is safe with me," Malcolm reassured him in his 'I-can-be-fully-trusted' voice.

"Malcolm…"

Breaking into a grin that looked as misshapen as his features, Malcolm feigned a punch to Trip's arm. "You old…"

"Malcolm, please!"

Reed cut off abruptly, his smile disappearing in an instant. "What's wrong?" he asked, obviously puzzled by Trip's tone.

"It's not what you're thinkin'," Trip said grimly, pressing two fingers on his eyes. His heart clenched briefly before anger took over. "This morning she thanked me for helping her explore human sexuality," he spat out. "Great, ain't it? Apparently last night was nothing but a damn experiment for her!"

Malcolm looked dumbfounded. Then he uttered a single, soulful word.

"Ouch."

"Exactly. Ouch. I can't believe I fell for it," Trip ranted on. "I mean, she's a Vulcan! A haughty, unfeelin' and… and…" He pursed his lips, looking for a few more uncomplimentary adjectives.

"_Beautiful_ lady?" Malcolm suggested.

Trip darted him a withering glance. "That has nothin' to do with what happened," he growled.

"Oh, come on, Trip," Malcolm countered. "You've got to admit that a man is more likely to… well, act in a certain way when in the company of an attractive woman."

"You and everybody else!"

Trip felt his facial muscles harden. Ever since that time he had got pregnant, everybody seemed to think he could not behave in an appropriate way when left alone with a beautiful woman.

"I'm real tired of bein' considered the Casanova of the Alpha Quadrant and beyond! I would've never even laid a hand on her if I hadn't… if I hadn't…" he faltered, not really wanting to say it out loud.

"Felt something for her?" Malcolm asked gently.

Rubbing a hand over his face, Trip sighed. Malcolm was more sensitive and perceptive than most people gave him credit for. Crazy as it sounded to his own ears, last night he had indeed realised that he could seriously fall in love with T'Pol.

He raised despondent eyes to Reed and muttered, shaking his head lightly, "Talkin' of actin' like an idiot… I did even better than you, Lieutenant." He snorted in self-derision. "Jealous of myself. How can anyone be such a fool? "

"What do you mean?" Malcolm enquired, confused.

"Apparently Sim told T'Pol that he had feelings for her," Trip mumbled. "And all of a sudden… I felt a bit jealous. I told her, and… well, that's when she…" He shrugged meaningfully.

"Well, are you in love?" Malcolm asked directly.

"Last night I thought I was. Now I don't know any more." Trip lowered his head. "She's made me feel like a damn lab rat," he said bitterly.

An instrument beeped, and Malcolm swivelled his chair to check some readings. His hands flew confidently over the commands and his whole body showed that dedicated intensity that he put in everything he did, so Trip was surprised when in the middle of it he said with quiet assurance, "You and I are not the only people who have been experiencing the pangs of jealousy these days, Commander."

Reed went on working in silence for another minute or so, and Trip just leaned back in his chair, observing him. Finally Malcolm powered off the weapons system and turned to face him again. He tilted his head, a smile playing on his lips. "How can you possibly not have noticed how jealous T'Pol has been of you and Amanda? She even got knocked to the ground, during that training session, simply to keep an eye on you two."

Trip rolled his eyes. "Aw, not again, Malcolm! I told ya, there was nothin' really goin' on between me and Amanda."

"That might well be," Malcolm said, his lips curving briefly down. "But it certainly _looked_ like there was."

"Besides," Trip went on with his own train of thought, "T'Pol is not supposed to feel any jealousy. She's a Vulcan. Vulcans don't feel."

"That's a load of crap," Malcolm decreed. An amused glint crossed his eyes. "She's a woman, you know," he echoed, putting on a drunken expression that made Trip's lips curve upwards. "And if you ask me, she hasn't done such a good job at repressing her emotions, recently," he added in his normal voice.

Trip huffed. "Then why…"

"I don't know, Trip," Malcolm said softly. "Maybe her control slipped and now she doesn't want to admit that she has feelings for you. But I'm ready to bet that last night, to her, was more than she's claiming."

Trip turned Malcolm's words in his mind. He wanted so much to believe him. But he had another explanation. "Ya know," he said sourly. "I think the tension of this damn mission is gettin' to us, and we each find ways to release it. You and Hayes beat each other up, T'Pol and I end up in bed together…"

Malcolm snorted lightly. "Lovely theory. Makes me look even more like an ass. Sorry, I'm not buying it, Commander. But in any case perhaps next time I'll spar with T'Pol and you can introduce the Major to the wonders of neuropressure. Or – even better – you'll spar with Hayes and I can get T'Pol to have a look at that nasty little pain I was telling you about." He tried to reach behind his back but gave up with a grunt.

"Oh, no - I don't like the sound of that. And I can see that your 'nasty little pain' has got plenty of company now, so you'd better get Phlox's expert advice."

"Sato to Commander Tucker and Lieutenant Reed," Hoshi suddenly paged.

Trip reached over to the control panel and opened the link. "What's up, Hoshi?"

"Commander! Is the Lieutenant with you?"

"Yes, Ensign," Malcolm replied.

"Where have you guys disappeared to?" Hoshi asked in a quieter voice. "The Captain has been looking for you and doesn't seem too pleased that no one knows where you are."

Trip saw Malcolm's eyes go wide with alarm and heard him curse a blue streak under his breath. "I asked Lieutenant Reed to help me overhaul a few systems in Shuttlepod One," he replied, putting on a professional voice. "But we're through now. Tell the Capt'n we're on our way to the bridge. Tucker out."

Malcolm began gingerly to pick himself up, flinching in pain, and Trip hurried to give him a helping hand.

"Honestly, Malcolm, you don't look fit for duty."

"You mean to say a bruised kidney, three cracked ribs plus a black eye and a handful of bumps and contusions ought to keep me from protecting this ship and her crew?" Malcolm hissed through gritted teeth, as he slowly straightened up. "Besides, if Hayes is well enough to work, so am I," he added stubbornly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Trip asked with an askance look at his friend. "Is the Major as battered as you are?"

Malcolm's eyes twinkled wickedly. He began to count off his fingers. "Detached retina, pulled thigh muscle, stretched ligament in his…"

"Alright, enough," Trip interrupted him, rolling his eyes. "Let's go. We don't want to get the Capt'n mad." He started towards the pod's hatch.

"Definitely not," Malcolm shuddered, following him. "Hayes and I received the dressing-down of our lives from him yesterday."

"Bad?" Trip stepped out of the pod and turned to wait for his friend, who leaned on his shoulder and followed suit, groaning as he took the step.

"Worse," Malcolm croaked out.

"Well, you can't say you didn't deserve it."

"We had just kept the bloody ship from exploding!" Malcolm said in fake outrage.

Trip stopped abruptly, suddenly remembering what Malcolm had done to the warp drive. "Speaking of which, Loo-tenant," he grumbled, "It would be nice if you tried to do your job without messin' up mine completely."

"Trip, I had no choice," Malcolm said apologetically. "We would all be '_lookin at stars_' if I hadn't done what I did. Lucky I know a thing or two about warp drives."

Trip narrowed his eyes, considering. "Betcha without you Hayes wouldn't have known how to save our hides," he said, watching in satisfaction as sudden realisation showed on Malcolm's face.

They exited the launchbay and walked in silence along the corridor. Despite his injuries, Malcolm's step seemed springier. They stopped in front of the turbo-lift.

"I bet T'Pol wouldn't have done her little exploration with _any_ crewmember," Malcolm said quietly, after looking around to make sure they were alone.

Trip gave a sharp nod. "I guess there's hope for us yet, Loo-tenant."

He pressed the button to call the lift. "I'm still going to get T'Pol's treatment," he said confidently, not even knowing why. He felt Malcolm's eyes on him and turned to meet them. There was a funny glint in them.

The lift arrived, and they boarded it.

"Really, Commander?" Malcolm asked straight-faced, pressing the button for the bridge.

There was a pause.

"I presume you are referring to her _neuropressure_."

Trip groaned. "You have a real dirty mind, Malcolm: anybody ever told you that?" For good measure he landed a soft slap on his arm.

"Ouch! Hayes already saw to beautifying my appearance with some lovely bruises, Commander."

"Remind me to thank him."

The lift stopped and the door opened to admit T'Pol.

"Lieutenant. Commander," T'Pol said in greeting, her tone no different from normal. She turned her back on them and faced the lift doors as they closed.

Once the lift started moving again, Trip turned to Malcolm and raised one eyebrow. "What are your plans for the evening?" he asked, deadpan.

Malcolm shot him an enquiring glance.

"Ya know – I've got to keep you out of trouble."

"Look who's talking," Malcolm replied, keeping his voice low.

The lift stopped and the door opened. "I shall await you for your neuropressure at seven, Commander," T'Pol said. She turned to cast a serene look at Trip but also a suspicious glance at Malcolm, before exiting.

Malcolm blushed immediately, though his mouth twitched. He waited diligently for Trip, as higher ranking officer, to go out first.

"My cabin eight o'clock?" Trip murmured as he passed. He winked. "Oughtta be back from my _treatment_ by then."

The End

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